


Wolf Lover

by DarkCommet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ned Lives, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Loving Marriage, Male-Female Friendship, Robert's Rebellion, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCommet/pseuds/DarkCommet
Summary: Marina Tully marries Ned Stark and everything changes.





	1. Chapter 1

News of Brandon Stark's death- of Lord Rickard Stark's death- reaches Riverrun within days of the murder. It's a terrible fate to befall them both, they were good enough men, but Marina hadn't been close to either of them. By the Gods, she hadn't even known them. 

But Catelyn had. 

She'd been betrothed to Brandon Stark, she had loved Brandon Stark, and her sorrow makes itself well known when she locks herself within her chambers and refuses to leave or allow anyone entry. 

Save Marina, of course. 

The sister who is but a year Catelyn's junior but certainly the favorite of her sisters. 

"It's going to be alright, Cat." Marina promises as she smooths back her sister's glorious red hair. 

"No," Catelyn hiccups sadly, "I have lost everything."

Catelyn just sobs harder, her nails breaking the skin where they dig into Marina's arm. The pain is nothing compared to what her sister must be feeling. So the ten-and-five year old hushes her sister and kisses her cheek as she whispers sweet, reassuring nothings into Catelyn's hair. 

She doesn't think about the sudden clench of her stomach or that little voice in the back of her mind screaming that Catelyn has done something incredibly foolish, because there's no proof. Catelyn has lost a future husband and a lover all in one blow and Marina can't imagine how that must feel. She herself has yet to be betrothed, has yet to meet anyone who she thinks she could willingly give her heart to as Catelyn has given hers to Brandon Stark.

They only separate when a servant comes to tell Marina that her father wishes to see her. 

Marina promises that she'll be back with sweet bread and wine before she kisses Catelyn's blotchy, tear covered cheek in parting. 

Once the door to Catelyn's chambers slip shut the maid curtsies respectfully before darting off. 

Marina allows the briefest of hesitations before turning on her heal and making her way to her father's study. 

Hoster Tully is the only man Marina has every truly loved. She remembers him from her years as a girl. Remembers the hours he would spend teaching her of neighboring lands or how to ride, the times he would lift her up onto his shoulders so that she could see over something that she was too small to gaze over. He had been strong then, dark haired and blue eyed and laughing. 

Now, Hoster Tully is thinner then Marina has ever seen him. His hair is streaked with grey, so much grey that it almost looks as if it is his natural coloring, and his eyes are almost murky. 

Marina lowers herself into the chair beside his bed, reaches out, takes his weakened hand in her own, and offers a kind, "May I get you anything father? Milk of the Poppy for the pain perhaps? Another blanket?" 

Because his hands are trembling and his shoulders are shaking. But he offers her a tired smile that chases away the worry that had taken root in her heart. 

"You are sweet, child." Hoster Tully comments. 

"And you are unwell." Marina adds softly. 

"The Maestor says it will pass, nothing that will kill me." 

Marina wants to argue but instead she nods slowly and offers a sad, "So say you, father." 

A moment passes between the two. 

Hoster turns his gaze from Marina's face and to the window, his grip tightens almost painfully, and when his attention returns to his middle daughter those eyes are distant and sad. 

"How is your sister? How is our Cat?" 

"She is sad, father," Marina states, "do you expect her to be joyful?" 

 _Lysa would have been_ , Marina thinks darkly, _she would have killed him herself... Given the chance_. 

Slender fingers run through the mass of her auburn curls- not as brilliant as Cat's but lustrous and soft all the same. 

Lysa had been a fool, giving her maiden head to Petyr Baelish so readily when it had been so clear, so very obvious, that his eyes had only been for Catelyn. But Marina knows Lysa had been treated with more fairness than she probably deserved... She had been given a good husband and the Vale to rule. Though, the forcible removal of her babe, a bastard though he or she might have been, had been cruel on their father's part. 

Very cruel indeed. 

"No." Her father says, a wet cough causing his slender frame to shake. When the coughing stops and Marina confirms that there is no blood staining her father's lips he continues, "There is much we must discuss." 

"What is there to discuss father?" 

The War? The fact that should Robert Baratheon fail they will all be labeled traitors by the Mad King and his son? Marina doesn't know, but, she does worry. 

"The Stark boy, Eddard, has offered to take your sister's hand. A way to honor the agreement between his house and ours." Hoster admits. 

And something in Marina's heart stops. 

"Father, tell me you aren't thinking of forcing Catelyn into this marriage." Marina begs. "Not so soon..." 

Hoster's eyes flash and clear as he proclaims, "Your sister will do her duty should I ask it of her... But no, Catelyn will not be marrying the Stark boy, I had hoped you would." 

"Me?" 

The admission startles her. 

Catelyn is the beauty of them, oh, Marina is certainly beautiful but Catelyn is a far greater beauty then Marina could ever hope to be. 

And besides, the agreement was that the eldest Tully daughter would marry the Heir of Winterfell. Or, that's what Marina had come to believe. 

"Aye," Hoster breathes, eyes dark. "Lysa is married, Catelyn would do her duty but I fear there may be hostility on her part... Don't look at me like that, Marina, you know it is true." 

Silently she agrees that it is but says nothing. 

Another moment of silence passes between the two before Marina bows her head respectfully to her father. 

"When is my betrothed to arrive?" She asks, voice soft. 

"Within the week. You will be married upon his arrival." 

 _So soon?_  

Marina swallows the lump in her throat. 

She has never feared marriage for she is a woman and the daughter of a High Lord. A political marriage was bound to happen but... Well, she had hoped to at least know her husband before their wedding. If only to establish some sort of a relationship. 

Because entering the marital bed with someone who is no less that a stranger _does_ scare Marina. 

"Then I shall look forward to the day." Marina mutters. 

Hoster's grip tightens on her fingers and when Marina looks up to meet his gaze her father offers a smile. 

"I would not have you marry anyone I felt would harm you, Marina, I promise you that." Her father affirms. 

And that breath she'd been holding escapes her with a sigh. 

* * *

Catelyn takes the news relatively well. 

She sighs tiredly, runs a hand through her hair, and offers a weak smile. 

"Eddard is a good man... Quiet, i suppose, but a good man." 

"Have you met him?" 

"No, i haven't." 

Marina rubs her eyes tiredly. 

It's too late for either of them to be up. Especially when Marina needs to visit the seamstress so that she can be fitted for a wedding gown and a few more for when she travels to Winterfell, and Catelyn will be seeing to the minimal wedding preparations. 

Her wedding will be small for they are in the middle of a war and it would be foolish to pull lords from the battlefield and to Riverrun for little more than a middle daughter's wedding. Marina doesn't mind. One way or another she will become a married woman. It doesn't matter who comes to see it done. 

"I _am_ sorry Cat." Marina whispers into the darkness of Catelyn's bed chamber. 

"For?" 

"Everything. This entire fucking war and Brandon's death and your pain." 

Catelyn's hand reaches out and wraps around her sister's fingers. 

"None of us could have known." Catelyn's voice is shaky. 

"No, i suppose not." Marina replies. 

And then she rolls onto her side and wraps her arms around Catelyn's frame. 

Sharing a bed with Catelyn is much easier then sharing a bed with Lysa. They're sister's, they've spent more nights together then either can count, and this will probably be the last time Marina gets anymore moments like this. 

"You'll like Winterfell." 

"You've never been, Cat, how do you know if I'll like it?" 

"Because you enjoy the cold and the snow, both of which come in a copious amounts up North." Catelyn laughs. 

"True." 

Catelyn entwines their fingers and squeezes. 

It's reassuring to know that Cat doesn't hate her for taking the place in the marriage contract. If anything, she seems relieved. Marina wonders why. 

Several long moments pass in which neither of them say a thing. 

And then, "Thank you Marina." 

"What are you thanking me for, exactly?" Marina questions tiredly, eyelids dropping heavily. 

"Marrying Eddard, I suppose." 

"You would have done it, had father asked." 

The girl yawns as she snuggles closer to her sister. 

Catelyn turns so that she's facing Marina and gently strokes her hair. 

"Yes, but you saved me from further unhappiness. I don't think I would have ever been able to live in Winterfell without being reminded of Brandond." 

Marina blinks slowly. 

In the pale moonlight drifting through the window she can just make out Catelyn's features. 

Her lips are pulled down in a frown, her eyebrows are furrowed, her blue eyes wet and gleaming... She looks so incredibly sad that it causes a sharp sting in Marina's chest. 

She hugs her sister a little tighter. 

"I would do anything for you, Cat. I love you dearly." Marina whispers into the darkness before continuing with a gentle. "But you must listen to me when I say that this pain you feel will fade, it will never leave, but it will fade and you will find happiness." 

It's a promise. 

In the darkness Marina sees Catelyn smile and it's a sweet thing, sad though it may be. 

And Marina places a chaste kiss on Catelyn's cheek before rolling onto her side and closing her eyes so that sleep might take her. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Almost six days later Marina finds herself in her chambers.

Maids bustling about with scented oils and buckets of steaming water for baths, their voices kind but impersonal. Marina thanks them for their troubles and bathes with the help of her sister who makes sure she has scrubbed rose scented oils into every inch of skin that she can reach, offering help when Marina's hands can't quite make it to her back.

Once she's bathed and dried Catelyn leads Marina into her bed chamber when a dark haired seamstress waits. 

The ten-an-five year old is quick to slip into the gown the woman passes her.

"Your betrothed has arrived." The seamstress remarks as she continues with the finishing touches to the gown she's spent the week preparing. 

"Yes." Marina replies. 

And no one misses the shakiness of her voice. 

The seamstress offers a look that hints at pity and Marina thinks she might hate the older woman for it. Thankfully Catelyn is there to keep Marina from ripping her hair from her head. 

Marina drops her gaze to the wedding gown she wears. 

It's a simple gown but beautiful none the less. Made of blue silk and embroidered with golden trout. Simple, yes, and Marina loves it.

A small, girlish part of her wonders if her betrothed with like it. Wonders if the fitted bodice will cause with blood to quicken in his veins. Marina knows it's childish. Her soon-to-be husband will take her maiden head tonight no matter of his or her personal opinion on the other, and, hopefully his seed will quicken in her womb. Hopefully she will get with child.

Without realizing it Marina begins to chew at her thumb nail. A nervous tick she's never truly been able to stop.

"Enough, Mare." Catelyn demands as she gently pries Marina's hand from her mouth. "Everything will be fine."  

"I know." Marina replies slowly. 

"You look beautiful, My Lady." The seamstress says, stepping away from the young woman she'd just been working on. 

"Thank you." Marina utters without much thought. 

Catelyn dismisses the seamstress with kind words before leading Marina over to the small vanity pressed against the wall. The younger girl sits, allowing her sister access to the mass of auburn hair that falls down her back. And Catelyn hums as she twists and braids and coils Marina's hair into a traditional River Lands style that has always been Marina's favorite due to it's elaborateness.

Marina glances at the jewels the seamstress has laid out for her as Catelyn continues with her hair.

Pearls and sapphires and diamonds glint up at her as Marina attempts to decide which she'll wear for the wedding.

She thinks that the sapphires would be best. 

"You look beautiful, Mare." Catelyn promises as she clasps Marina's necklace around her slender neck. 

"Thank you sister, you're kind." 

Catelyn smiles, kisses Marina's cheek, and goes to fetch her Maiden's Cloak from the bed where is has been laid so as not to wrinkle. It had been Catelyn who made it, for the wedding she had hoped to share with Brandon Stark. Now she is giving it to Marina to wear, to borrow until Eddard Stark pulls it from her shoulders to replace it with his own. 

Truthfully, that has always been Marina's favorite part of the ceremony. She thinks it's terribly intimate, symbolic, in it's own right. 

The elder of the two girls hums thoughtfully as she moves to clasp the cloak around Marina's slender shoulders. Then, when the heavy satin has settles against her arms and back, Catelyn pinches at Marina's cheeks to bring some more color to them. Marina swats unhappily at her hand before glancing at the window. The sun is beginning to set in the sky, which means she will soon be brought before the man who will be her husband. 

All to soon someone is knocking at her door. 

Marina doesn't feel proud of the relief she feels when her caller turns out to be Edmure. 

But she does offer him a smile when he tells her that she looks like the Maiden incarnate. It's incredibly sweet of him to say and Catelyn laughs a little to hard when Marina tells Edmure that he's biased. 

"Come," Edmure commands as he offers his little sister an elbow, "father is waiting, as if your betrothed." 

The girl offers a tight smile as she allows Edmure to lead her away from her chambers. 

* * *

Eddard Stark is handsome. 

His face his long and his jaw is strong, his hair falls in a dark wave to his shoulders, his eyes are grey, and there's something about the way he stands that draws the eye.  

Marina's seen handsome men before, he's nothing new, but there's a heat attempting to creep up her neck. Later Marina will blame it on the biting chill of the wind that slips around the trees of the Weirwood- a holy place that is rarely visited. But Eddard is a Northerner and a Stark, and as a sign of faith they will be married before the Heart Tree. 

Married before the Old Gods. 

Gods who Marina thinks she will consider taking as her own. 

Blue eyes meet soft grey and Eddard offers a hesitant smile before asking, "Who comes? Who comes before the Gods?" 

Marina swallows, the smile she offers in return feeling a bit more forced then usual. Her betrothed's voice is a deep timber, heavily accented and rich. 

"Marina of house Tully comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to bed the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" Hoster Tully replies hesitatingly. 

These are not the rituals they have practiced and learned for so long, the words are foreign. But not unwelcome. 

"Me, Eddard of house Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her, who gives her?" 

Marina tries not to feel like meat being bought and sold. She tires, really, she does, but there's still that little feeling of discontent that makes her wonder how different this would be if she'd been able to meet the man she is marrying before now. Marina thinks that if she'd met him then all of this wouldn't be so... Uncomfortable. 

"Hoster of house Tully, father of Marina of house Tully." Her father states with more sureness then Marina feels. "Marina of house Tully, will you take this man?"

"I take this man." She forces her voice to remain steady.

By the Gods, she's never been this nervous before.

And what reason does she truly have to be nervous? Her father would never marry her to anyone that would be cruel or malicious toward her, he's said as much, and Catelyn's certainly heard more then enough about Eddard from his brother and she seems confident that Marina will be happy in this marriage.

Her betrothed steps closer, his hand offered but not demanding anything of her.

Marina swallows as she fits her hand into his. And to Marina's mortification she finds herself shaking. She hopes Eddard doesn't notice it. But he does. By the Gods he notices her trembling and his smile softens as he offers a reassuring squeeze. 

And then he leads her to kneel before the Heart Tree for the required moment of silent prayer to the old Gods. Marina does not pass up the opportunity to beg. She asks for happiness and children and for her husband to return safely to Winterfell so that they might learn to love each other. 

Because that's what Marina wants. Love. Or at the very least, some form of it. Fondness even, she'd settle for fondness. 

When the time comes for Eddard to replace her Tully colors with those of house Stark Marina thinks she might have forgotten how to breath. 

Eddard, her husband now, helps her to her feet. His smile is tender and his eyes soft, though a bit guarded, as he unclasps her Maiden's Cloak. 

Marina tries not to shiver as the satin slips from her body, leaving her exposed to the wind. Her husband hands her cloak off to her father before taking up a cloak of his own. It's a lovely deep grey with a white Direwolf slayed across the back. It's heavier then her Maiden's Cloak had been and protects her from the wind as well. She especially loves the fur that lines the cloak. 

Her husband steps closer to her, his hand taking hers. 

It's time for whatever celebration Hoster Tully has decided to give. Nothing too elaborate, Eddard leaves tomorrow to join Robert Baratheon on the battle field. He can't afford to be sick from the wine. Not when so much is depending on him and the men he will lead. 

Eddard's smile is kind and guarded as he turns to her. 

Marina's is just as guarded but no less kind. 

* * *

The celebration is small. 

Attended by a few lords and ladies who are loyal to Hoster Tully and the men who have followed Eddard South for his wedding. 

There is music, however, and laughter. And Marina is thankful because it's easier to be happy and laughing then it is to be uncomfortable and solemn. 

Marina glances toward her husband. 

He appears even more uncomfortable then she is. His shoulders are tense, his brow furrowed, his finger tapping a rapid rhythm against his knee. 

Honestly, it's beginning to grate on her nerves a bit, but Marina understands. So she reaches out and hesitatingly brushes the tips of her fingers over his shoulder. Eddard jerks, startled, but offers a tight smile when he realizes it was her. 

"Are you alright, My Lord?" She questions. 

"Ned." 

"I... I beg pardon?" 

There's a sudden hint of red staining her husband's cheeks. 

It's endearing.

"Please, Ned suits me far better then anything else." Her husband states. 

Marina offers a smile. "Only if you call me, Mare or Rina. It's only fair after all." 

Ned's smile softens a bit. 

He goes to open his mouth, whether to ask a question or make a statement Marina isn't sure, but he's interrupted by her brother's sudden appearance. Edmure greets Ned with a smile before turning to Marina. 

"This dance, beloved sister?" He asks, bowing low and laughing loudly when Marina flicks a pea at him. 

"You're ridiculous. You know that, yes?" She rolls her eyes.

"Of course." Edmure replies before turning to Ned. "You'll have to excuse me My Lord, but I must steal my sister from your company. If only for a minute."

And suddenly Marina's being ushered from her seat and twirled out into the crowd of dancing guests.

Dancing with Edmure is dangerous. Many of Marina's toes have fallen victim to her brother's feet.

Today is no different.

"Ed!" Marina laughs as her brother steps off her toes.

"Sorry, sorry."

Marina laughs harder as Edmure picks her up and spins her around.

"Your husband, dear sister, appears rather jealous." Edmure comments.

And the girl casts a glance at her husband.

He's dancing with Catelyn, the tension in his shoulders almost identical to the tension in hers. He doesn't appear jealous at all. Just uncomfortable. And Marina's glad that she was married to Ned in Catelyn's place.

With a sigh Marina slips from Edmure's hold as the music shifts and catches Ned's wrist as he attempts to slip from the crowd of dancers. He looks at her, eye wide and surprised, as if he hadn't expected her to even attempt this kind of interaction.

"Would you care for a dance? I promise, I'm far better company then Cat." Marina almost begs as she steps closer to her husband.

It's an attempt to build something before their bedding. Whether it be lust or brief fondness. Anything to make what is to come less uncomfortable on both of their parts. Ned appears almost thankful, but he shakes his head slightly and Marina's chest tightens.

"I am no dancer, My Lady."

She doesn't correct him for using such formal terms. If that's what he's comfortable with then that's what she will allow him to call her.

"You can't be any worse then Edmure."

 _Please_ , she thinks, _please_.  

Slowly Ned offers a nod. 

He leads her into the crowd with a tentative, guarded smile and leads her into the crowd. 

* * *

Her husband is a good man. 

He refuses a bedding ceremony, continues to refuse even as his men and others laugh and jape and make bawdy remarks. Ned Stark refuses with steely eyes and a clenched jaw. 

But his insistence falls on deaf ears.

The bedding called for and Marina only catches the quickest flash of worry in her husband's eyes before she is surrounded by men, some she knows and some are strangers but that hardly matters. They'll be seeing her naked soon enough.

She's been to plenty of weddings, participated in enough bedding ceremonies to know that the girl's are never truly harmed. Someone will touch her, someone will make bawdy jokes as another whispers crude things about how her husband will take her, but they will not cause her any true harm. Nothing that can't be fixed.

Marina has to remind herself of that every time a piece of fabric is removed.

It starts with her slippers, the delicate golden things are tossed away as if they were work boots and a man makes a comment about the daintiness of her feet.

Then her stockings are gone, pulled from her legs with a whoop and a laugh.

Desmond Grell makes bawdy jokes about the suppleness of her body before realizing who he's speaking to. He apologizes profusely but his mind slips and another joke comes. Marina laughs. Desmond will not allow them to hurt her. He's too good a friend.

So Marina carefully removes her jewels and hands them to him.

"Please make sure they aren't lost Desmond, I fear that at this rate I'll have to borrow my husband's clothes if I wish to leave my marital bed with any form of decency." She laughs. 

Because despite everything these men are trying to keep her as comfortable as possible. 

A Northern man carefully pulls the cloak from her shoulders. He steps aside and another man appears, offering a nervous smile as he reaches out to pull Marina's dress from her body. The fabric rips at the arm due to the man's eagerness, Marina allows herself a moment to wonder if it can be fixed because laughing it off. 

"It's but a dress. I have plenty." She laughs. 

It sounds a little to forced. 

A little to hollow. 

She's nervous.

A man she doesn't know places his hand on her rear, feeling her through her smalls. 

All too soon she's standing before a heavy oak door and a man is pulling her small clothes from her body. 

This time Marina offers a nervous smile. This is the first time she's ever truly been... Bare to a man's gaze. And this man is staring at her breasts in such a way that makes Marina want to shrink away and hide them from his view. 

Desmond seems to realize what's going on because he shoves the man aside and opens the door to the chambers where she will lay with her husband. 

He closes the door behind her. 

"Gods." Marina breathes as she runs a hand through her hair- now loose and void of the jeweled combs that had held her curls in place. 

Beyond the door she can hear women laughing, their voices drawing closer and closer until Marina has to lean close to the door to hear what's being said. 

"...Such lovely breasts," A man crows from the other side of the door, "lovely enough to make me wish I'd never been weaned." 

Marina rips herself away from the door, not because she's disgusted or concerned, but because the door is sliding open and she doesn't want to be caught eavesdropping. Though, she supposes she has every right. 

Her husband says nothing as he enters the chamber, remains quiet as he locks the door, and he continues to say nothing as he turns to meet her gaze. 

Ned stares. 

Marina blushes. 

She's never seen a naked man before, but the heat growing in her stomach confirms that it's not an unpleasant sight. 

Ned Stark is certainly... Attractive, she supposes. She has nothing to base her decision on. 

He's big though, and, if Marina hadn't made a friend in Desmond she would have never met the whores he brings to his chambers. Whore who taught Marina far more about the Marital bed then the Septa who had taught all of the Tully girls. There's no wondering if he'll fit between her legs, no worry that he'll hurt her. _Discomfort_ , she remembers a whore stating, _but unless your husband's a maid who doesn't know what to do with his prick there won't be pain_. 

Marina tries not to laugh at the memory of Noma's face when she'd asked. 

It wouldn't do for her to laugh, because laughing would lead to questions and Marina doesn't think her father nor Desmond would be pleased to hear about the conversations she'd held with the whores brought into the keep. 

"Were you treated well?" Ned wonders, purposefully keeping his eyes on her face. 

"As well as a woman can be when being stripped." Marina replies. 

"But they didn't... Touch you?" 

"No." 

It's a lie. But it's necessary. 

"Good." 

Ned moves closer, closer, closer until Marina can feel his heat. 

He reaches out to rest his hands on either side of her face, a smile if offered and return in the seconds before Ned leans down to place a kiss upon her lips. 

Marina reaches up, one hand slipping into Ned's hair while the other lands on his chest. She rather enjoys the feeling of his muscles, of his heat, beneath her fingers. But Marina thinks she likes the feeling on his fingers on her breasts a little more. He's unsure, hesitant to touch her, and it would normally be sweet if there wasn't such a time constraint. 

So it's with a gentle grip that Marina leads Ned toward the bedchamber. 

"Are you sure?" He asks. 

It's a way out... For both of them. The last one. 

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't." 

Her husband nods before he kisses her again, harder this time, urgently. 

They are unfamiliar with each other. 

Ned's just as new to this as she is, unsure but willing all the same. He touches her, kisses her, promises gentleness, and when the time comes he takes her. 

It's not fucking, it's not lovemaking, it's a means to an end. 

Marina hopes that after this war- if he survives and comes back to her- that they can work on that. Hopes they can build some sort of passion because there's hardly any pleasure in this... Oh, it's not entirely unpleasant. Ned makes sure she gains her release. 

Ned beds her twice after that. 

And when he spills himself inside her that final time Marina doesn't expect Ned to pull her closer and drape his arm across her. But he does. His warmth seeps into the bed covers and into her skin in such a way that causes Marina's eyes to droop. 

She decides that she likes being held. Even if it's uncomfortable and tense. They'll work on that. 

But for now Marina's too tired. 

So she closes her eyes and relishes in the feel of her husband's arm around her and his heat. 

She falls asleep only minutes before Ned does. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters are going to move pretty quickly. Just forewarning you.

Ned leaves Riverrun as the sun rises into the sky. 

He presses a chaste kiss to Marina's cheek, offers a tight smile, and tells her he'll return. 

Marina wishes him well, says she'll pray for his safe return, and watches him go with a frown. 

"He'll come back." Catelyn whispers as she leads Marina back into the keep. 

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Marina replies. 

And that's not what scares her. 

What scares her is that there's a possibility she could be carrying his babe. If Robert fails, if Ned dies, if the Mad King lives... Oh Gods. Marina fights the urge to hold her stomach. There's no sudden swell, there's no sickness, nothing to say she's carrying Ned's child but if she is and her husband fails only two things could come of it. 

The Mad King will either kill her for marrying a traitor to the crown- and by doing so will kill a babe that might not be growing in her belly, or, the Mad King will let her live. She'll give birth to any possible babe and if it is a boy he will be proclaimed Warden of the North. He will be watched and trained to be loyal to the men who murdered his father and if he shows even the fainted hint of anger toward the Man King then it will end in blood. 

Fire and Blood. 

Marina feels sick just thinking about it. 

But she doesn't show her discomfort. She just pulls her cloak closer to her body and marches into her home. 

The ache between her legs is more then tolerable, barely there at all. It's the only proof that Ned took her. There'd been no blood on the bed coverings. Just wrinkles and seed. It's almost amusing. 

Marina glances at her stomach. 

If there is a babe growing in her belly then she will protect it. No matter the cost. Even if Ned fails and she's deemed a traitor to the crown, even if the Mad King demands she give him her babe as tribute. Marina's quite good at singing and even better at riding, and as she's a quick learner the ten-and-five year old thinks that if worst came to worst she'd easily be able to flee to Dorne or Essos. Somewhere, anywhere, she can protect any possible child. 

"Are you alright, Mare?" Catelyn asks. 

And Marina smiles as she turns to her sister. 

"I'm well, Cat, thank you." 

The older girl nods hesitatingly before disappearing down the corridor. 

* * *

A month passes then two and Marina hasn't bled. 

She goes to Maester Vyman.

"My lady!" He exclaims as she marches into his chambers. 

"I am in need of your service and your discretion." Mirena begs as she pushes the door shut. 

"Of course dear child, what ails you?" Maester Vyman wonders. 

And Mirena bites back tears because Maester Vyman has helped her so many times over the course of her life. He's set bones and stitched cuts and helped with her pain when the Moon's Blood made her ache and curl in on herself. And he has always been a gentle man, kind and comforting.

He's an aged man, white and withered, but his eyes are a warm brown that welcomes and promises no judgement. 

Marina feels safe with him. 

"Is there any way you can confirm a pregnancy?" She whispers. 

Maester Vyman blinks, his eyes wide and his eyebrows creeping up his face. 

"When was the last time you bled?" He demands. 

"Two months ago." Marina replies, and then she runs a hand over the braids keeping her hair out of her face. "I'm pregnant... Aren't I?"

"You seem displeased with the news." Maestor Vyman remarks. 

He's already sorting through herbs and concoctions. He doesn't touch the ingredients used to make Moon Tea. A sudden memory of Lysa's screams and her sobs as her babe was forcefully ripped from her... There'd been so much fucking blood. 

Marina presses a hand to her own belly and watches Maestor Vyman all the more closely. 

"I am worried someone will attempt to slaughter my babe before he is born... And after." Marina admits, tone full of warning. 

 _Give me anything that will harm my babe and I will rip you to shreds_. 

Maestor Vyman watches her for a moment before glancing at his hands where a vial of blue liquid rests. His eyes widen. 

"I would never harm you or your babe, Lady Stark." 

_You allowed father to do so to my sister._

"I'm sorry for any offense. I didn't mean to question your loyalties." Marina bites out. 

"It is only natural, My Lady. You are an expectant mother, it is only natural to distrust those who have the ability and the means to harm your child." Maestor Vyman claims before packing the vials and herbs into a small box. "The white flowers will help with any illness you may feel in the morning, the blue vial is for any sleepless nights, only a drop in your tea. Any more then that _could_  kill you or the babe." 

Marina decides she's not touching that shit with a seventy foot pole. Fuck sleep. She can sleep when she's dead. 

"Thank you." She says as she accepts the box. 

None of it will be used. 

"You must tell your father, My Lady." 

"Yes... Yes, i know. Thank you again good sir." 

Marina flees before the Maestor can remind her about the herbs. 

She won't need them anyway. 

* * *

Her father is thrilled, ecstatic even. He laughs and congratulates her and tells her that she'll make a fine mother.

Catelyn hugs her, tight and fierce and Marina knows that should anything happen her babe will have a home in Riverrun. 

Edmure asks if she'll name the babe after him. 

"What if it's a girl, Edmure?" Marina laughs. 

"Then you will have a beautiful daughter named Edmurina!" Edmure proclaims as he gathers her into his arms. 

He spins her around until she grows dizzy and begs him to release her. 

And she turns to look at Catelyn and her father only to find Hoster Tully staring at her with sad, sad eyes. 

"Father?" Marina asks, worry clear in her tone. 

 _Because father made Lysa give up her babe... It would have been a bastard but it was a babe all the same. Lysa's babe_. 

She knows it's unreasonable to fear her father like this but... Marina had been _there_ and the memory of the blood and salt of her sister's tears still make her sick. 

"You are a Stark now, Mare, you carry a Stark babe in your womb. It is time you travel to your husband's lands." 

The relief she feels is almost like a betrayal to her father- a man who has done nothing to earn her distrust. 

"Oh... Yes, I see... When will I be leaving?" She inquires. 

"You will leave as soon as I have sent a raven to Winterfell and have received on in return." Her father declares. 

Marina nods her head, biting back a smile all the while. 

* * *

The raven from Winterfell arrives far sooner then Marina expected it too. 

Benjen Stark has remained in the North- for a Stark must always remain in Winterfell- and would be more then happy to receive Marina. 

So she packs. Nothing to extravagant. Winterfell if bound to be much colder then Riverrun and her father has ordered a new wardrobe made for her. Tully blues and Stark greys make up her clothes, all of which are made with heavy materials, there are a few that are made of velvet and silk and Myrish Lace but those dresses are for only the most important of celebrations. 

She will miss Riverrun. 

The river where she played as a child, the Gods Wood where she and Edmure would sneak off to play in the trees- they never kept the Old Gods but their forest had never truly been empty of the Tully children's laughter. 

Marina doesn't realize she's crying until she tastes her tears on her lips. 

It's not sorrow that causes her tears. It's something like excitement and happy remembrance. 

So Marina wipes at her cheeks and presses a hand to her belly before leaving the chambers that had been hers for so many years but will hopefully be passed down to Edmure's children. 

The servants have already taken her things, there's nothing left that Marina needs aside from the small stack of books in her hands. Essosi legends and Dornish tales and stories from across the Narrow Sea. Gifts from her mother- who died while Lysa screamed and kicked and begged for her mother with little more then her presence. Marina refuses to part with any of them. 

She shuts the door to her chambers and leaves without a backwards glance. 

"I'll miss you, Mare." Edmure says before pulling her into the tightest hug she's ever received. 

Catelyn is next, her cheeks drying and her eyes bright. "Write to me, yes?" She begs. 

"Of course I will." Marina promises. 

And when she reaches her father Marina feels the telltale sign of tears. She sniffs them back before throwing her arms around Hoster Tully's shoulders. He hugs her tightly and laughs. 

"Now, now Mare. Don't cry. We will see each other again." He says. 

Marina doesn't know whether or not that's true but it helps to relieve the pressure in her chest a fair bit. 

"I know... I just... I'll miss you all so much." 

Her father's smile has not changed. It's never changed. It's still a little too big, a little to happy, his teeth a little too crooked. It's a familiar smile. And Marina thinks she will miss that smile more then anything else... Well, aside from her siblings. 

And they exchange a few more farewells before Edmure helps her onto her horse. 

Maestor Vyman had said she could ride as long as she was careful and kept herself well rested and well fed. He'd also given the small group of guards who would be escorting Marina to Winterfell that should anything happen they would be help responsible. Just a way to keep them from riding to hard for too long. Marina thought it was all terribly funny at the time. 

She says goodbye one last time and smiles sadly as she trots away from her home. 

 _I will make Winterfell my home_. She thinks as she turns to stare ahead of her. _And I will love it just as fiercely_. 

* * *

Benjen Stark is quieter then Ned is but his smiles come with more ease and so do his jokes. 

The first time she meets him Marina expects respectful bows and chaste kissed upon her hand. What she gets is laughter and a welcoming hug as well as an inquiry about her journey. 

"Come, I will show you to your chambers." Benjen says as he offers his arm. 

Marina takes it with a kind, "Thank you, My Lord." 

"Benjen, please, good sister." Benjen corrects. 

"Very well, Benjen it is." 

And Benjen's smile makes it abundantly clear that Ned's had been forced. Benjen's smile is big and laughing and it causes his grey eyes to dance happily. It doesn't hurt to think that Ned had offered her insincere smiles. Why should it? 

"I feel I should introduce you to Maester Luwin. You will be seeing much of him after all." Benjen comments more to himself then anything. 

His eyes drift to Marina's stomach. 

It has yet to show any signs of her pregnancy but it will, soon. 

So Benjen takes her to Maestor Luwin, a balding man with hunched shoulders and the kindest of grey eyes. He greets her with exuberance. 

"My Lady! A pleasure, I must say!" He exclaims as he takes her hands in his wrinkled ones. 

They're incredibly soft. 

"Thank you. I assure you, Maester Luwin, the pleasure is mine entirely." 

And Luwin laughs. 

"Sweet girl." He murmurs. 

Then he steps back into the cluttered mess of his work place, carefully side stepping odds and ends as he searches for something. Benjen laughs as he pulls her from the room. 

"He's a good Maester, excellent if you ask me." Benjen proclaims. 

"I believe it." Marina laughs. 

And Benjen smiles down at her as he leads her deeper into Winterfell. 

He tells her which room is which and points at different tapestries, shows her where the store rooms are and where the great hall is. And all Marina can thin is that Winterfell is the most amazing place she has ever seen. 

When Benjen finally stops at a heavy door he smiles. 

"These are your chambers. Everything's already been put away and readied for you." Benjen says. "I'll have a hand maiden come as soon as possible." 

"Thank you Benjen." Marina says. 

Something in his dark eyes shifts. It's a sadness Marina doesn't know... She hopes she never will. 

"You are my sister now and a Stark as well... We look after our own." 

Benjen's walking away as soon as he's done talking and Marina watches him go, hand lingering over her stomach. 

* * *

The chambers she is given are large. There are lavish chairs by the fire and a heavy oak table in the solar, the bedchamber is larger still. The bed is lovely. Large and spacious and covered in pelts. Marina glances over her shoulder before dropping onto the furs, her face buried in the softness of them. 

They smell clean, if a tad musky, and it's a pleasant smell. 

Marina decides she likes this bed as she rolls onto her back, eyes drifting around the chamber. 

Occasionally she will spot something that is not her's. 

A pair of boots, freshly made and waiting to be used- far to big for Marina to fit into. 

doublets and cloaks too big to be hers. 

And she realizes that the chamber she's in is just as much her's as it is her husband's. It's nice to think that they will be sharing bed chambers. Intimacy will be easier to build when they share a common ground. But the warmth in her chest comes more from the fact that he is trying to make a connection as well. Why else would they share a chamber? Even the Mad King and his wife never shared chambers. 

A loud knock has Marins jumping damn near out of her skin. 

"My Lady? May I come in?" A muffled voice calls. 

Marina hurries into the solar and pulls open the door to reveal a dark haired girl with kind eyes and blushing cheeks. 

"I didn't disturb you, did I?" 

"No, not at all. Come in." Marina steps aside to allow the girl entry. 

And she watches as the girl turns to her. 

"Would you like a bath Lady Stark? Before supper, that is." The girl blushes as she speaks. 

"Yes, please, a bath would be lovely." 

Because her muscles ache and her arms are sore, not to mention the smell... Marina loves riding, loves being outside, but she hates to sweat... Edmure had always found it terribly amusing. 

Her maid curtsies quickly before leading her to another room where a large tub rests. 

"Typically, the residents of the Castle visit the Bath House... But, as you are the Lady of Winterfell, and your guards are not allowed in the women's section of the bath house, you have your own personal bath." 

"Thank  you..." 

"Raleigh, My Lady." 

"Thank you Raleigh." 

It's a pretty name. Suits the petite girl with her dark hair well. 

A bath is drawn for her and Marina dismisses her maid with a smile and a promise that she'll summon her if anything happens or if Marina needs her. Once Raleigh leaves Marina sighs. 

She's not uncomfortable with another woman seeing her naked... But this is a new place and full of new people and Marina doesn't know who to trust. 

So Marina washes her hair, lathers sharp smelling soaps into it before using a bucket of steaming water to rinse the soap away, then she pins the wet auburn tresses up so that they won't get dirtied in her bath water. She scrubs the soaps into her arms and legs and across her belly as well as in other places to keep herself clean, and her hands linger on her stomach. 

"Hello, Little Love." Marina whispers to her belly, unsure if her child can even hear her. 

Marina hopes he, or she, can. Hopes that her babe can hear her voice and know just much Marina loves the life growing within her. 

She's been thinking of names since she left Riverrun. Listing the pros and cons of each name as her party traveled from Riverrun to Winterfell. 

If it's a boy, Marina thinks Robb is a wonderful name. A strong name that can easily be attributed to someone in her family should Robert- his namesake- loose this rebellion.

And if it's a girl, Marina has always loved Sansa. A woman of house Stark who had been married to Jonnel Stark. It's a lovely name.

Whether her children take her coloring or their father's Marina will teach them kindness and temperance, but most importantly she will teach them that family comes before anything else. Even honor.

Marina sighs tiredly as she runs a hand over her face. Her stomach lets out a low gurgle and it causes Marina to laugh. 

So she removes herself from the tub and dries herself off before stepping back into the bed chambers where she's quick to pull on a clean pair of small clothes and a woolen gown over her head and a pair of slippers onto her feet. Marina's unpinning her hair when Raleigh enters her room. 

"Supper will be served shortly, Lady Stark, shall I escort you to the Great Hall?" 

"Yes, please." 

The ten-and-five year old slips form her chambers with a smile toward the petite maid, who offers a smile in return, and a thought that perhaps this girl can become a friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

Marina falls into her duties as Lady of Winterfell with ease. 

She's been taught how to manage a castle. Finances and food stores and repairs. Nothing is done without both Marina and Benjen discussing the problems together. Marina makes sure the rations are enough to keep the people healthy but to large as to render the stores empty before Winter. 

Benjen tells her she's doing very well. 

"Taking to it like a fish takes to water." He'd laughed. 

Marina agrees. 

Winterfell is a wonderful place, and Marina's already met many of the men and women who help to keep the Castle running. She decides that only one Marina might have issues with is the Septa who clucks sharply when Marina does something unladylike. But she means well... Or, Marina hopes she means well. Because if she doesn't then Marina might have a problem. 

Or not. 

Honestly, Marina doesn't care. 

Marina runs a hand through her hair as she goes over the reports sent from the Under Lords of the North. She shouldn't be thinkging of the Septa.

Crop production is poor at best and there have been rumors of Targaryen soldiers sneaking into the North and attacking small villages. 

The Lords who are to old to fight or too young have stayed behind to look after their lands... But they can't do that if they're too busy trying to keep their soldiers and their families from dying of hunger or falling to the sword of Southern troops that might not actually be in the North. 

"What am I to do, Benjen?" Marina asks. 

Benjen has become a good friend. A dear friend. Marina values his company more then she'd ever expected to. 

He smiles but it's tense. 

They're both beginning to feel the pressure of this rebellion. 

"We can't send all of our troops to far from Winterfell," Benjen mutters, "not when you're with child and these rumors are just that. Rumors. We can spare some rations. But we must be sure we can survive the winter months." 

"Gods." Marina breathes. 

She's exhausted. 

Her nights are restless. Some nights she dreams of a failed rebellion and an extinct house who used to have a Direwolf sewn into their banners. Some nights her babe causes the food she'd eaten hours earlier to spill from her stomach and into the chamber pot. Sometimes she forgoes sleep in an attempt to find a possible solution for this problem or that. 

Maester Luwin tells her she must sleep, lest she wish to cause stress to the babe in her womb. 

He's even gone so far as to give her herbs to help with the vomiting and the restlessness. 

"It's going to be alright, Mare." Benjen promises. 

Marina justs nods. 

Then her stomach lets out a loud growl that forces a sigh from Marina's mouth. Benjen laughs. 

"Hungry?" 

"Always. I woke craving Lemon Cakes and spiced food." 

Her friend makes a face. 

"Lemon Cakes and spiced food, eh? Perhaps when Ned returns we'll celebrate with such foods." 

"Lemon cakes will do just fine, sir." Marina laughs. 

Marina stands. 

"Have you felt the babe move yet?" Benjen asks, eyes drifting to the noticeable swell of her stomach. 

It's been three months since her arrival to Winterfell. 

Marina has not yet sent a Raven to Ned, because, she doesn't know where he is. Fighting in a valley or nursing an injury somewhere, perhaps. But who can tell? And in those three months at Winterfell Marina has become noticeably pregnant. 

"Not yet. Luwin says most women in their first pregnancy do not feel their babes move before the sixth month... But when I do you will be the second to know." 

"Second?" 

"Well of course, how will you ever find out if I do not?" Marina laughs. 

Benjen smiles. It's a fond thing, soft and warm and holding none of the hesitation that has sunk in as the rebellion has continued. 

Marina is glad to know that her friendly banter is appreciated. If even for a moment. 

"Have you thought of names?" 

"Robb or Sansa. It depends I suppose..." 

Benjen nods. 

He understands. 

Winterfell _needs_ a male heir for Benjen plans to take the Black and if Mairna births a girl things will change. 

But Marina doesn't really care which she brings into this world. 

Because she will love him or her so fiercely that not even the Gods- old of new- will dare to think of taking them from her. 

Benjen smiles. 

And Marina knows that he will love her babes just as much. Because Benjen will be the babe's uncle and the Starks are as family oriented as the Tullys. The proof lies in the deaths of Brandon and Rickard who chanced the South and the Mad King's court in an attempt to reclaim the daughter, the sister, who had been stolen from them. 

Marina takes comfort, not in their deaths, but in the fact that Benjen will protect his niece or nephew. 

To whatever end. 

* * *

She kneels beneath the Heart Tree. Face turned up to the sorrowful face, feet too close to the small pond behind her. With trembling hands Marina reaches out to brush slender fingers against the pale roots that grow and spurt from the earth around her. 

Marina licks her lip. 

Growing up with the Seven as her Gods had made prayer easy. 

Pray to the Father if you seek justice, the Mother if you want a happy marriage and many children. The Warrior for courage, the Maiden for protection of virtue and innocence, the Smith for strength, the Crone for guidance, and the Stranger for... Other things. Marina never actually prayed to the Stranger. 

But as she kneels before the Heart Tree Marina's tongue turns to lead in her mouth and her lips refuse to move. 

 _Pray_ , she thinks, _show them that you are willing to try_. 

Marina crawls closer to the Heart Tree and the mournful face carved there and offers a tentative glance at the vibrant red leaves that dance in the Winter wind above her head. But she doesn't speak. Just kneels there on her knees, one hand resting on rough bark and the other clutching at her stomach beneath the fabric of her cloak. 

How does one pray to Gods they have never known? Is there a way to go about it? Gods, this hadn't been nearly as difficult at her wedding. 

The thought brings the hint of a smile to her lips. 

She has married a Northerner, a man who worships the Old Gods, perhaps they will lend her their ear strictly for that reason alone. 

So she prays for her husband's protection and the protection of his family. And for the healthy birth of the babe she will soon bring into the world. 

"I didn't expect to find you here, my Lady." 

Marina jumps. 

"Maester Luwin... I didn't hear you come." She pants, hand over her heart. 

The aged man laughs kindly before moving to sit on the roots of the Heart Tree. 

"Not many who hold the Seven come to the Heart Trees." Luwin remarks thoughtfully. 

Marina smiles. "We have a Godswood at Riverrun... It's rarely visited but... When we were children my siblings and I would play games there. Sometimes they were silly games." 

"I did not know that." 

"Our father said it was disrespectful. Told us that we were not worshipers of the Old Gods and that using the Godswood and the Heart Tree as a form of entertainment could be seen as a slight in the North." 

"You don't agree?" 

Marina shakes her head, a smile curving her lips, and she looks at Luwin. 

"No. How could it have been disrespectful? I believe that the laughter of children is sacred, that their joy is sacred, and if the Gods grow offended by it then they can hardly be considered Gods." Marine states, aware that _this_ could be seen as a slight. "I will give birth and I will raise my children, but I will bring them here and I pray that their laughter fills this place as best it can." 

Luwin watches her, eyes neither wide nor narrowed. He looks as if he's studying her. 

Marina wonders if she's said something wrong. Wonders if he'll tell Ned or another Northerner, wonders if it will cause animosity toward her. 

Her worries are put aside when Luwin smiles. 

"It is good," he claims, "that you think so." 

"Don't you agree?" 

"Wholeheartedly." Luwin nods, smiling big and bright. "The Gods are ancient and those who worship them are young in comparison, but they do grow and experience things that causes their prayers to turn sour and mournful. I believe people forget that. I also believe that the laughter of children is precious, for it dies to easily." 

Marina wonders if her husband and his siblings came to this tree and played beneath the bloody leaves. 

Perhaps they did. 

Perhaps they pushed and shoved and fell, bloodied their knees or crumpled among the roots of the Heart Tree or dropped into the clear waters of the pong. Perhaps their laughter could be heard back in the Castle, drifting and twirling through the trees. 

"Shall I leave you, Lady Stark?" 

"Marina, please," she almost begs. "And I would much appreciate your company." 

* * *

Almost a month and a half later she feels her babe kick. 

She's in the Godswood, sitting on the bone white roots of the Heart Tree when the first powerful press of little appendages against the sides of her womb have Marina glancing away from the book she's reading and too the prominent swell of her belly. 

But the movements have stopped. 

Marina shakes it off with a smile and a furrow of her brow. _Nothing more then gas or hunger pains,_ She thinks as she turns back to the story. A story of dragons and Dornish sands that she's been reading for the past ten minutes or so. 

And then another movement has Marina slamming her book shut. 

She presses her hand to her middle, desperate. 

The laughter comes when a forceful thrust meets her palm. It stops soon after, her babe settles but Marina couldn't care less. Because that was her babe! Her little Robb or Sansa moving within her. 

And it feels like nothing Marina's ever felt before. 

It feels like she's been offered the finest silks and jewels. 

Marina laughs delightedly, completely awed, before leaning back against the twisting roots of the Heart Tree, lips turned up in a smile, eyes gazing up into the blood colored leaves that rest above her head. 

Still and quiet. 

But Marina thinks that maybe this is a gift or a sigh. That her babe's first movements were felt before the eyes of the Old Gods, a gift from them to the woman who has devoted herself so thoroughly to the home she is attempting to make in Winterfell. 

And the tears that blur her vision are not tears of sadness. 

* * *

"Are you feeling alright, Marina? Is the babe coming?" Benjen asks nervously as he sits beside Marina at the dinner table weeks later. 

Marina scoffs. 

"I wish the babe were coming. I'm tired of not being able to breathe properly." She retorts. 

 _Or control my own need to take a piss._  

The dark haired man beside her laughs, but it's a nervous sound. His eyes keep flickering to the hand Marina has clenched around the arm of her chair. 

"It's nothing but a little discomfort, Benjen. My Babe seems restless." 

As if in agreement a heavy movement from within her has Marina grinding her teeth. It's been going on for the past ten minutes, on and off again with no way to tell when it will happen. She'd discussed it with Luwin, just in case it was time for her babe to come, but he'd laughed and assured her that it was nothing to worry about. 

Marina reaches out, takes Benjen's hand, and presses it to the swell of her belly. 

He looks mildly embarrassed. As if he's sharing some incredibly intimate moment with his brother's wife. Marina rolls her eyes. They're alone, save for Maestor Luwin, having chosen to sup in Marina's solar than in the great hall. 

"Honestly, Benjen, it's nothing." Marina mutters. 

But her good brother's not listening. 

He's to busy staring wide eyed and shocked at the swell of her belly where her babe kicks a heavy rhythm against his palm. 

It lasts only a moment longer before stopping. 

"It's a boy." Benjen laughs. "Such powerful movements." 

"Or perhaps my babe is a girl and incredibly angry that I have chosen to eat the foods she dislikes." Marina suggests before taking a bite of bread. 

Her stomach rolls unpleasantly. 

Benjen suddenly turns very somber. His grey eyes cloud slightly, mouth thinning. 

"Are you unwell, Benjen?" Marina inquires, food forgotten. 

"... Ned should be here." He mutters in reply. 

"Yes," Luwin agrees, "but there will be others." 

It's not an unkind jab at her babe's expense. It's simply a fact. 

Marina rolls her eyes and pushes her plate away, unable to even smell it without the threat of vomiting hitting her. 

"Are you alright?" Luwin inquires, eyes worried. 

She waves him off. 

"Fine, fine. Just not feeling up to any more food is all." 

"Perhaps I could fetch you something." Luwin suggests as he begins picking through the pockets of his sleeves. 

Marina stops him with a gentle hand and a smile. 

"It's quite alright, Maestor Luwin, I will be fine. Though I do find your company pleasant. Would it be alright it I stayed a while?" She asks. 

"Of course." Benjen proclaims. "We'll tell stories of Ned's childhood and our adventures." 

"Perhaps nothing to embarrassing." Luwin warns. 

Benjen pouts but takes the man's advice. 

He tells a story of the day Brandon won his first tourney. 

Marina kicks off her slippers- because her feet are sore, the arches and toes ache terribly- and pulls them under her as best she can with such a small chair to work with. But she does manage it. And Marina adjusts her skirts so that the fabric doesn't show much more then her toes, because it would't do to have either man worrying over the small amount of swelling to her ankles. 

Swelling that Old Nan- the septa who'd been slightly distant until Marina had been caught limping around her room- had said would go down with plenty of water and no small amount of resting her feet. 

The latter of which is far harder then she'd originally thought. 

Marina laughs and smiles as Benjen talks, his excitement keeping her from slipping into sleep. Something that she feels might be desperately needed at this point. 

So it's with a smile and a promise that she's perfectly fine and just needs to rest that Marina slips off to her bed chamber.

Neither of her companions seem terribly upset by it and Benjen wishes her a good night with a chaste kiss to the hand, Luwin tells her that he has replenished the herbs to help her sleep should she need them. 

Marina thanks both with gentle smiles but she closes the door a little too quickly. 

She doesn't even bother to remove her clothes. She just shuffles to the bed and pulls back the pelts before laying down on the bed, curling into a protective ball around her stomach. 

The ten-and-five year old falls asleep to the warmth of pelts around her and the dim glow of candle light before her eyes. 

* * *

The babe comes early. 

Not terribly so, but enough that it makes Marina's heart plummet to her toes when birth fluid slips between her legs and wets her skirts. 

She's in the library with Raleigh and the young maid hesitates before racing from the room to find Luwin. 

Marina watches her go, breathing in sharply when the pain starts. 

it's a sharp sting, like the pains she had been used to feeling during her monthly bleeding... Except a little worse. 

Old Nan had warned her about this, the labor pains. But just because she knows it's going to get worse doesn't mean Marina wants it to. In fact, she'd be perfectly happy if the pain faded all together. 

But that won't happen. 

A fool's wish, nothing more. 

So Marina apologizes to the library keeper for the mess and he waves her off with wide eyes and tells her, "It's quite understandable, My Lady." 

Marina doesn't think he gets how embarrassing it is but doesn't remark on it. Instead, she grabs her cloak off of the chair and wraps it around her frame and begins the seemingly endless trip to the birthing chamber. 

Luwin and Benjen meet her halfway. 

"My lady, are you alright?" Luwin asks. 

"The babe... It's to _early_." She states, panicked because,  _oh Gods what if something has happened_. 

Luwin seems to understand because he moves closer and tries to soothe her, tells her that it's natural for babes to come a week or so early. That there's nothing to fear. Marina tries to listen but it's so fucking hard. 

"We'll get you to the birthing chamber and prepare you for the birth and it will be fine." 

A sharp pain has Marina grinding her teeth. She's used to pain like this, one doesn't go through Moon's Blood pains without growing accustomed, but she's nervous and... And she's scared. Because she's alone and no one can actually tell her what's happening. 

Benjen and Luwin help her to the birthing chamber. 

The Stark to her left moves nervously, which only causes Marina's own nerves to increase, and the Maester to her right offers encouragement and gentle statements. 

They arrive at the birthing chamber in minutes and Benjen leaves her with Luwin. 

"I'll be right outside the door, I promise." He says when Marina offers him a terrified glance. 

Because no other man but her husband and Luwin can enter the birthing chamber with her. Which Marina thinks is utter shit, because if she could chose anyone to be there to lend support it would be Benjen. He's become one of her dearest friends and he's the closest thing to family she has in Winterfell. But no one will allow him to enter the Birthing Chambers and it would be seen as improper by anyone who heard of it. 

So Marina nods frantically before allowing Luwin to lead her away. 

The chamber door shuts heavily behind them. 


	5. Chapter 5

Marina clutches at the hand of the maid who's come to help Luwin during the birth. 

It's been several hours. 

She actually feels kind of bad for thinking that her earlier pains were horrible, because now it's almost intolerable. Almost. 

Marina grinds her teeth, the taste of her own tears coating her tongue. 

"It's almost time Lady Stark." Luwin states. 

He's calm. Marina's thankful, if the man delivering her babe were as panicky as she had been earlier Marina thinks she'd have refused to allow him anywhere near her babe lest he cause permanent harm. But Luwin is calm, kind and understanding. He doesn't even reprimand her when an almost too loud shout of "Fuck!" escapes Marina's lips. 

Luwin situates himself between her legs with a kind smile and Marina digs her teeth into the side of her mouth. Normally she's be embarrassed at having someone sitting between her legs, but Marina can't bring herself to care because Luwin's a Maestor and has been at Winterfell for years. He's seen more then his fair share of births. So Marina isn't concerned. 

A sharp, stinging pain has Marina clenching her eyes and pushing. 

"Very good, My Lady." One of her maids cue as she runs a damp cloth over Marina's forehead. 

The ten-and-five year old just wants to bat her hand away and tell her to stop, because the coolness of the water isn't helping with anything. It just makes her shiver and sweat. 

Marina pushes when Luwin tells her too, little noises of pain growing a fair bit louder as time passes. 

She doesn't have as high a pain tolerance as she'd like, and as the pain grows higher it becomes more and more difficult to keep the angry, painful noises from leaving her. 

Luwin laughs when Marina claims that the next time Eddard comes anywhere near her for the purpose of sex, Marina will personally demand he sit with her in the birthing room... Or she'll cut off his cock. Whichever comes first. 

Luwin laughs. 

Her maids cluck disapprovingly. 

And Marina yelps loudly as she pushes. 

* * *

It's a boy. 

"As healthy and hardy." Luwin proclaims as he cleans the babe of blood and birth fluid.

Marina breathes a sigh of relief as she drops back against the pillows. She's exhausted, covered in sweat, and thirsty but the admission that her babe is healthy and strong has Marina forgetting all of that. One of the maids passes her a cup filled with cooled water and Marina drinks it greedily.

By the time she's passed the cup away Luwin has cleaned her babe and moved to stand beside the bed.

Marina pushes herself up into as best a sitting position as she can get.

"May I... May I hold him?" She asks.

Luwin smiles as he places the squirming, screaming babe in her waiting arms. "You did well, Lady Marina. Very well indeed."

He isn't talking about the fact that she bore a boy.

Marina smiles at him as she pulls her babe closer.

He's a precious thing. Skin wet and red, eyes unclear- having not yet settled one a permanent color, and a sparse covering of auburn curls clinging to his scalp. Marina cues at her babe, her precious babe whose cries have died down a bit. She cries. 

"What shall we call him, My Lady?" Luwin implores as he settles into the chair beside Marina's bed. 

"Robb." Marina replies as she traces her finger over the red swell of her boy's cheek. 

"Robb Stark. A good name. Many will know it." Luwin comments. 

Marina laughs and cues at her babe. 

Everyone will know Robb's name. He is Heir to Winterfell, future Warden of the North, many will know his name strictly for that reason alone... News of her pregnancy has no doubt spread, because the servants might be faithful but the small folk speak and the lower Lords listen. It wouldn't surprise Marina a bit if everyone in the North knew of her son's birth by morning. 

Not a bit. 

But Marina doesn't allow herself to think of that because her babe is crying, his little mouth searching, and Marina waits for Luwin to kindly avert his eyes before bringing her babe to her breast. 

* * *

"Come now, little wolf." Marina grunts as she lifts Robb from his bed. 

He kicks and wails and screams in her arms. 

It's to early to be up, or perhaps to late, the sky is dark and the stars are bright and truthfully Marina would rather be sleeping. But Robb has been fussing for some time now and Marina doesn't know why. 

She's checked to see if he needs changed, she's tried to feed him, tried rocking him. Nothing has worked. When she'd gone to Luwin the Maester had said he didn't think there was anything causing him pain, that she should just let him go on until he tires himself out. 

Which is why Marina's sitting in her bed with her son cradled in her arms- he continues to kick and wail but Marina thinks it's less aggressively. 

"Shall I tell you a story?" She asks as she drags her finger over his forehead. "I've been told I'm very good at telling stories." 

Robb just wails. 

"I grew up in the Riverlands, you see, and as a child I was very adventurous." Marina rocks from side to side, a gentle sway that helps to soothe most babes. "My siblings and I loved to play games. We'd chase each other through the Godswoods, pretend we were Gods, sometimes Edmure would bring practice swords and he'd offer to teach us. I was the only one who took up his offer." 

Their father had probably known, but he'd never said anything about it and Marina had shown little interest in taking up an actual blade so he'd allowed Edmure to teach her. Should the need arise. 

"But one of my favorite things to do was swim in the river. There's a place, you see, close to Riverrun, hidden by trees and rocks where the water is less treacherous and not so deep that one cannot touch the bottom." Marina laughs. "We'd spend hours there, my sisters and I, sometimes Edmure would come as well, but it was mostly jsut the three of us... I hope to give you several siblings, little wolf, would that please you?" 

 _It would please me greatly_.

Robb's wails have died a bit, though he still lets out little whines and sounds that make his displeasure obvious. 

Marina smiles as she runs a hand over his head. 

"I can't wait for your father to meet you." Marina admits very suddenly. "He'll love you. Just as I love you." 

Because even if Ned's feelings toward her never grow past tender fondness Marina has no doubt that Ned will love Robb. 

Her son's cries have died altogether, which causes Marina to smile delightfully and lay her son down on the pelts before her. 

"There we are," She laughs. "Isn't that better, little wolf? I doubt you enjoyed crying so terribly." 

And even though her son can't reply Marina thinks his smile is all the answer she needs. 

She smiles and moves her babe so that he's laying among the pillows and furs of her bed. 

Marina watches as Robb falls asleep, his little snores filling the space alongside the crackle of burning wood in the fire. 

She doesn't sleep that night. Too busy memorizing the swell of her babe's cheek and the way his face lacks any of the furrows Marina had seen on his father's face. Marina commits everything to memory. She falls asleep with one hand on her babe's belly and her head resting beside his. 

* * *

Months pass- four to be exact- and Robb has grown. 

His eyes have settled into a bright Tully blue and his hair has grown thicker. 

Luwin says that he's growing quickly. Which makes Marina smile happily whenever she looks at her boy. 

But the thing about him that amused Marina the most is the fact that he gurgles and laughs as he makes a grab for different thinks. The wool and furs and leathers of men or women as they pass him or hold him. He even went as far as to stick Marina's necklace in his mouth one evening at dinner. Benjen had laughed as Marina had carefully pulled the jewel from her babe's mouth. 

"He's a curious one, isn't he?" Benjen asks as he pulls Robb from Marina's arms. 

"Almost to curious. I wonder where he gets it." Marina laughs, though she thinks she already knows. 

"I personally think he got it from you," Benjen laughs. "Ned was never so curious in his youth." 

Marina laughs before sipping at her water. 

Benjen cues at the babe in his arms and Marina can't help but wonder if her husband will do the same. Oh, Ned will love Robb, all men love their sons. But will he treat Robb as Benjen has treated Robb? Gods, Marina hopes so. 

"What ails you?" Benjen inquires suddenly. 

Marina blinks. "I beg your pardon?" 

"Something has upset you? I would know what that is." 

"It's silly." 

"To you, perhaps." Benjen agrees. 

Marina sighs. 

That's the thing about Benjen Stark, he's a good friend- a wonderful, loyal friend- but he pushes. If he feels someone is hiding something from him he won't stop pressing until he knows what that is. 

It's better to just tell him and hope he doesn't laugh. 

"I was thinking of your brother, My Lord Husband." 

Benjen blinks slowly before nodding. "Yes," he says, "I can understand that." 

"What do you mean?" 

And the dark haired man laughs. "Marina, you and Ned have been married for more then a year and you have given him a son, an Heir to Winterfell, but in all that time you've only spend a number of hours in his company." 

"That means nothing." Marina tries to argue. 

"It means everything." Benjen says softly. "Mare, you are my friend, Ned is my brother. I know you both well enough at this point to offer sound advice." 

"And what advice might you offer me, Benjen?" Marina laughs. 

"Stop worrying. You've given Ned a child and you've looked after Winterfell to the very best of your ability. He has no reason to be distant or angry with you, if that's what you're worried about, and if it's not then I suggest you think of this." Benjen takes a large drink from his cup of mead. "Robb will bring you closer together as a married pair." 

Marina bites her lip, preparing a reply, a reply interrupted by Robb's cry of pain. 

He'd taken Marina's spook from the table and has tapped the curved side a bit to hard against his nose. She carefully pulls the spoon from his grasp and sets it beside her plate. 

"Benjen?" Marina asks. 

"Yes, Mare?" 

"I wouldn't call it sound advice, but, thank you all the same."

Benjen smiles.

"Of course, what are good brothers for?"

Marina rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her food.

* * *

A raven arrives months later. 

It's from Ned. 

The rebellion has ended, Rhaegar Targaryen is dead and gone, and Lyanna is... Gods, lyanna Stark is dead. 

_Died in a room that smelled of blood and roses._

Or so Ned claims in his letter. It's oddly poetic, like some tragic song about a young princess locked away in a tower. Marina wonders if someone will dare to make such a song. She suspects not, it wouldn't be good for them if Robert Baratheon heard it.

Ned writes that he will be returning to Winterfell. 

Robert Baratheon has been named King, he's married Cersei Lannister, and has not seen to the arrest or trial of Gregor Clegane for his crimes against Elia Martell and her babes. 

A rapist and a murderer. 

No one in the capital seems to care. Why would they? Elia Martell might have been a good woman but they had not loved her so much as to protest her murder. And her son and daughter were Targaryens to boot. Children of the bastard who kidnapped Lyanna Stark and sparked a rebellion. Why would they mourn a woman and her children when they are to busy trying to heal their men and keep their own children from starving? 

"It's sick." Marina bites out as she tosses the letter onto Luwin's work table. 

"Marina." Luwin reprimands. 

"No, she's right. It _is_ sick." Benjen whispers. 

His eyes are watery and the way he keeps moving his mouth shows that he's fighting back tears. 

"Lord Stark will be arriving within a fortnight." Luwin comments, an attempt to change the subject. 

"And we will bury Lyanna in the crypts with the rest of out house." Benjen mutters. 

Luwin runs a hand over his face. He looks, in that moment, incredibly old. Sad in a way Marina's never seen before. 

The three of them stand in an almost stony silence. 

It's broken by Benjen shoving away from the table and storming toward the door. If Marina didn't know any better she'd have said he damn near ripped the door off it's hinges, but she does know better, and Benjen slams the door behind him with enough force that it makes Marina jump. 

Luwin places a hand on her shoulder. 

They don't say much after that. 

* * *

Those two weeks pass a lot slower then Marina had expected. 

They creep and crawl by at a pace that makes Marina want to rip her hair from her head. 

Gods be good. 

She blames it on the anxiety she feels bubbling in her chest. 

Ned's just lost a sister, and has probably lost more then a few friends as well, and while Marina knows Benjen well enough to attempt comforting him, she doesn't know her husband well enough. Will he prefer to be alone? Will he rage? Refuse to eat? Will he go on as if nothing's happened? And if he does any of these things, Gods forbid, how is she supposed to help him? 

Benjen had raged. 

He'd gone to the training grounds and beat a practice sword against the side of an archery target until the straw that kept the target up had spilled from the burlap encasing it. Then he'd cried. Sank to his knees and hung his head, shoulders wracking with pained sobs. 

Marina had draped her cloak over his shoulders over his shoulders and told him that if he needed to talk about it that Marina would listen. No matter what. 

Benjen hadn't taken her offer but he had pulled her down to her knees and wrapped himself around her like a child seeking his mother's comfort. 

They haven't spoken of it since. 

"Your Lord Husband arrives today, My Lady." Raleigh states as she bounces Robb in her arms. 

The auburn haired babe laughs, gurgles and lifts his pudgy little arms up into the air. 

Marina watches with a smile as she pulls her gown up over her shoulders- it's a lovely thing in Tully blue with silver flowers embroidered into the bodice. It had been a gift from Catelyn and Marina thinks that this will be the opportune moment to wear it. 

Raleigh cues at Robb before placing him, tummy down, on the middle of the bed. She rushes to help Marina lace up the dress. 

"Yes. I am excited to see him." Marina replies. 

And it's not a lie. 

Marina is excited to see Ned. Because despite the fact that they'd been strangers when Ned left Riverrun, they'd shared a few moments during their wedding celebration that has Marina thinking that if anything she could be Ned's friend. At the very least. A friend and perhaps a lover. Besides, she does want to try and build something between them. 

Once Raleigh has laced up her dress Marina pulls her cloak over her shoulders and moves to pick up her son. 

Robb shrieks delightfully as Marina lifts him into her arms. 

"There now, little wolf." Marina laughs, pressing a kiss to her son's rounded cheeks. "Are you excited?" 

her son's only reply to to reach out and paw at the necklace dangling around Marina's neck. 

Raleigh laughs, Marina smiles, and together they leave the chambers. 

* * *

A guard spots Stark banners approaching the city all of four hours later. 

They're approaching rather slow but that's quite alright for it allows those living within the Castle time to settle in the courtyard, where they will greet their Lord of Winterfell and the surviving soldiers who ride with him. 

Marina cues at Robb and rocks him gently when he begins fussing. She understands, of course, it's beginning to snow and Robb's growing restless. Disinterested in remaining in his mother's grasp, it would appear. 

She almost finds it amusing. 

"Here comes your Lord husband, Mare." Benjen's voice is rough and low. 

It's the only evidence of his sorrow that Marina can find. 

The clomp of hooves smacking into the cold ground has Marina drawing her shoulders back a bit. 

If anyone were to ask Marina if she was nervous... She wouldn't lie. 

She is nervous. 

What if Ned was hurt? What if any wounds he has gained have become infected? What if Luwin can't help him? 

Her worries are put to rest when Ned Stark rides his Destrier through the gates. 

He looks tired. 

They wait until he has dismounted before falling into bows and curtsies. 

"Brother." Ned greets, voice rough as he embraces Benjen. 

Marina doesn't feel anger, nor does she feel jealous of how Ned has chosen to greet Benjen before herself. She would have done the same if it were Catelyn or Edmure or even Lysa standing there. Besides, Benjen and Ned have lost a sister. They deserve whatever comfort they can find in each other. 

But when Ned turns his eyes on Marina, the young woman almost feels trapped. Because something in Ned's gaze hints at nervousness and it's directed at her but it also... Isn't. It's like he's nervous of her reaction to something he has yet to say or do. 

"I am glad to see you safe, My Lord." Marina greets. 

And Robb chooses that moment to take the end of Marina's braid and promptly shove the end into his mouth. 

Benjen snorts. 

"My Lady." Ned greets. 

Marina smiles, though a bit sadly, and glances at Robb. 

"My Lord, would you like to hold your son?" She asks. 

If he doesn't that's fine... Well, no, it's not fine, but Marina would understand. 

Thankfully Ned gives a tentative nod. 

Marina passes Robb over with a smile and a gentle, "I've names him Robb." 


	6. Chapter 6

When Marina first learns of Jon Snow she isn't sure how to feel. 

Yes, she should feel hurt. Gods, she should be angry. And no one would be able to tell her not to be angry, for Ned is her husband and he... Gods, he was unfaithful. So yes, Marina should be raging and angry and hateful toward Jon Snow. 

But she just can't bring herself to do anything but look at the little dark haired babe resting on the bed beside Robb. 

"I am sorry, Marina, I am." Ned says, eyes pleading.

Marina runs a hand through her hair. 

Something about all of this doesn't make any sense. 

Her husband's story sounds rehearsed. As if he practiced it several times in the privacy of his tent or in his head as he traveled home. It sounds almost like a lie. And Marina hates that she doesn't know if it is or not. 

She sighs. 

"I'm not angry." She finally admits. 

"You have every right to be." Ned replies. 

And Marina looks at him, nods, and says, "I do." 

"Then why are you not?" 

Marina moves to sit on the bed beside the two children. 

Robb gurgles happily, his hands stretching toward her, the dark haired boy beside him simply stares. 

"He's a babe. What reason do I have to hate him?" Marina asks. 

Ned runs a hand over his face. 

"I am sorry I have dishonored you this way Marina, you don't deserve it." Ned whispers. 

The girl twists to look at him, brows furrowed. 

"Dishonored? Ned, why would you say that?" 

"I brought a bastard into your presence." 

She laughs, a bitter, ugly sound. Her expression is an angry, twisted thing. 

"You aren't going to legitimize him?" 

Ned looks startled for a moment. As if he'd never expected those words to come out of his wife's mouth. 

Robb's gurgling laughter dies a bit, his attention falling from his mother and to the dark haired babe lying beside him. Marina glances at them, allowing her attention to remain for a few moments longer then needed before turning back to Ned. 

"It is not common for bastards to be legitimized." Ned mutters. 

And now Marina feels anger. 

A deep burning affront that causes her to raise an eyebrow at her Lord husband. 

"He is your son." Marina bites out. "He is the blood of Winterfell and he has as much right to the name as Robb does... If you don't legitimize him, I will." 

Family, duty, honor. 

Fuck duty. 

This is honorable. 

Jon is family. 

And despite the unconventionality of it all, Marina _will_ love Jon Snow. And she will raise him with her son and however many other Stark she brings into this world because she can. Because fuck everyone else's opinions on how bastards should be treated or how they should be loved. 

 _I can love him_. Marina thinks, looking at the dark haired babe who shrieks happily at Robb. _Just as much as I love Robb_. 

Ned blinks at her, his face showing nothing of what he's thinking. 

Marina thinks she might have over stepped her bounds. She doesn't know Ned well enough to have a clear idea of what those bounds are.

But she is the Lady of Winterfell, even if Ned were to not legitimize the boy Marina certainly has the power to do so.

And it's with that thought that Marina levels her husband with a fierce glare and a silent demand for him to deny her this.

He won't though, not after bringing Jon to her when he could have easily sent him away. Perhaps that's why Ned didn't send Jon away. Maybe he wanted Marina to suggest such a thing.

Marina bites the inside of her lip and waits.

"Very well. I will see it done." Ned replies, voice soft and sad and sweet.

"Good." Marina retorts.

Then she's rolling off of the bed, moving closer and closer to her husband until they can share warmth.

Marina places a chaste kiss upon Ned's cheek before turning away. 

* * *

"Marina, have you seen Ned?" Benjen asks. 

And the girl looks up from the floor where she's been playing with both of her children. Because Jon is just as much her son as Robb is. Especially now that he's been legitimized and given the name of Stark. 

"No, is something the matter?" She replies. 

Benjen pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"No one's seen him all morning. I worry about him, Mare." 

Marina nods once before carefully standing, making sure not to step on any little appendages as she moves away from the pelt and toward the chair where her cloak is spread out upon the back. She pulls it on without much thought. 

"Would you watch the boys? I will speak with Ned." 

Because Marina has a pretty good idea where he's hiding. 

Benjen nods once and Marina doesn't stick around to see whether he's placed himself on the floor or whether he's decided to do something a little different with the boys. Marina trusts him. Probably more then she really should... But she doesn't feel worried for either of the boys so she continues to make her way to the courtyard. 

It's snowing. 

Marina's thankful for the fur lining her cloak. 

She's quick to find the Gods wood and even quicker to find Ned. 

He's sitting beneath the blood read leaves, back against twisting white roots. There's a blade in his hand- a great blade that Marina has learned had been named Ice years and years ago- but the rag he'd been polishing it with is held limply in his hand. Marina bites her lip when she notices the obvious sheen of tears upon his cheeks. 

"Has Benjen sent you?" Ned wonders, voice soft. 

Marina moves closer, not speaking until she's resting on the Heart Tree's roots beside her husband. 

"He's worried, but he didn't send me." Marina replies. 

Ned looks at her. 

And there's so much sadness in his eyes that Marina hesitates. 

How is she supposed to comfort him? Does he even want her to comfort him? She supposes there's only one way to find out. 

With trembling fingers Marina reaches out and wraps her hand around the hand holding the rag. 

Ned looks surprised by the gesture. 

"I don't know what you're going through Ned. Gods, I don't ever want to know... But I know that it's not something you have to go through alone. And should you ever need me, I'll be there. Just as Benjen and Luwin and your sons shall be." 

There is no reply from Ned. 

All there is the rustle of leaves over their heads as a wintry wind causes the branches to bend and bow. Snow drifts down around them, not harshly enough to sting the eyes or bite the flesh, but just harsh enough to have Marina so fucking thankful she didn't bring either of the babes with her. 

She meets Ned's gaze. 

The steely grey of his eyes have softened to a misty color and Marina thinks that his eyes are probably the most expressive part of Eddard Stark. 

"Did anyone ever thank you?" Marina asks suddenly. 

"For what?" 

"Fighting in this rebellion? You didn't have to. You could have pledged the sword to the Mad King and to Rhaegar and hoped to the Gods that you got to see your sister again... But you didn't. You fought and because you did... You've saved and avenged so many people." Marina reaches out, fingers brushing Ned's hair away from his brow. "Thank you for that." 

Neither say much after that. 

Ned blushes a bit, but that could just be the cold, and turns his attention to the pond. 

Marina watches him, pulls her knees up to her chest and doesn't say anything. 

Because sometimes just having someone there is more then enough comfort for a grieving person. To much chatter can seem insensitive and it can just as easily be unwanted. Besides, Marina doesn't mind the silence. 

Without much thought Marina shifts closer and rests her head against Ned's shoulder. It's the gentlest press of her forehead against the fabric of his cloak. And Ned tenses minutely, which makes the girl wonder if she's done something wrong. But when Ned relaxes and his hand comes up to drag the polishing rag down the blade's surface Marina allows her eyes to close.

This is all the comfort she can offer at the moment.

And perhaps all the comfort he will allow himself to receive.

For now, Marina thinks that it's perfectly alright.  

* * *

After they're little conversation in the Godswood Marina and Ned have become... Friendlier? 

She thinks that's the best word for it. 

They break their fasts together, Ned escorts her to places Marina isn't familiar with when he has the chance, and Marina attempts to help him with his work when she can. Sometimes Ned brings her a gift. 

The first time it happens Marina is going through the food stores, speaking with the cooks and some of the other servants. 

Their conversation is interrupted by someone clearing his throat. 

Ned bows his head when they turn to look at him. 

"My Lord?" Marina asks, confused as to what he's doing there. 

"Might I have a word?" Ned inquires. 

"Of course." 

Marina smiles at the cook before stepping up to her husband. 

Ned offers his arm and Marina takes it, allowing him to lead her away from the store rooms and further down the corridor. 

"Benjen told me you celebrated your name's day." Ned states, clearing his throat a bit. 

It was hardly a celebration but yes, Marina had turned ten-and-six. 

"Yes, a week before your return." Marina says. 

Ned nods once before stopping. 

Marina turns to face him, brows furrowing when he presses something cold and smooth into her palm. 

It's a fang. 

Hardly bigger then her hand, it's a dimmed white color, and when she runs her thumb over the point Marina is shocked to find that it's still relatively sharp. 

"Robert ordered the dragon skulls removed." Ned comments after a moment. "I know it's hardly a proper name's day gift but I had assumed you would appreciate it." 

And the smile that pulls at Marina's mouth causes her eyes to narrow slightly. 

She leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Ned's cheek. 

"Thank you, Ned." She breathes, fingers tightening on the fang a bit. 

 _A real dragon fang_. 

Mairna wonders if he got it for her on purpose. Whether he did or not doesn't really matter. What matters is that Ned gave her a name's day gift, even though he wasn't under any obligations to do so. 

And when a faint blush stains his cheeks Marina finds it charming. 


	7. Chapter 7

It snows quite often in Winterfell. It snows quite a lot, actually, but Marina's never actually been able to enjoy it. 

Because Ned had been gone and his responsibilities were hers and she'd been a little to wary of the iced over stones to actually feel safe venturing out alone during her pregnancy. But she's not pregnant anymore and the snow from the night before has left a heavy blanket over Winterfell. 

Marina is more then pleased. 

Ned's gone, having woken early to deal with this issue or that and Marina has the morning to herself.

She's quick to steal a pair of Ned's pants and a tunic. She pulls one of her personal doublets on over it- a heavy, vibrant blue thing that Edmure had commissioned for her when she showed an interest in hawking and riding. Once Marina's properly dressed she pulls a cloak over her shoulders, grabs a pair of soft gloves, and asks Raleigh to watch Robb and Jon. 

"It's too cold for either of them to be outside for too long." Marina remarks sadly, because she genuinely wants to bring them both with her. 

"There will be other times, my lady." Raleigh replies. 

Her smile is kind and full of understanding. 

Marina embraces her. 

"Thank you, Raleigh." 

"Of course, my lady. If there's anything else please tell me." Raleigh laughs. 

Then she's gathering Robb and Jon and carrying them away. 

Marina's quick to make her way out of the Castle. 

She almost isn't sure what to do with all of the snow. Raleigh had told her it was perfect for building and packing. Whatever that means. Marina just thinks it's cold. But that's a good thing right? 

The six-and-ten year old glances about. 

No one else is around. Marina isn't surprised. She's in a somewhat secluded part of Winterfell, not many come this way. A few guards perhaps and a couple of servants if they need to, but for the most part Marina will be left to her own devices. 

So Marina drops to her knees and begins balling up snow. 

That's how Ned finds her. 

"My Lady, are you alright? Your hand maiden said you've been out here for several hours." Ned remarks, and the suddenness of his voice causes Marina to shriek. 

"Gods damn it Ned!" Marina breathes, hand over her chest. 

Ned offers a tight smile, "My apologies my Lady." 

Marina drags her fingers through her hair. The snow that sticks to her gloves melts in her hair, causing some of the auburn strands to darken a significant amount. But she smiles and motions toward the small family of snow people she's made... They aren't by any means beautiful, but Marina adores them. 

"I don't care. Ned, Ned look at them! I made them!" Marina cackles delightfully. 

"I take it you've never seen snow before." Ned remarks, voice kind. 

"No, of course not, it doesn't _snow_ in Riverrun." Marina retorts dryly. 

It doesn't snow. Not really. Sometimes there will be a very sparse layer of the stuff on the ground but it never actually snows. Not like this.

Ned laughs. 

It's a good sound, soft and gentle and deep. 

Marina watches as he moves closer to her snow people. His boots crunching over snow and ice. He observes the people for a moment before reaching out to brush something from the shoulder of one of her people. 

And she can't help but stoop down and gather some snow into her hands. She rolls it quickly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Because Ned's finishing his examination of the snow people and he's turning to her, mouth open as if to speak. Marina hurls the ball of snow at her husband. 

Satisfied beyond belief when it smashes against his head. 

Ned swears, a loud, surprised yelp of, "Shit!" 

Marina laughs. 

"I'm... I'm sorry." Marina chokes out around her laughter. 

Ned blinks at her, hands coming up to wipe the melting snow from his chin and cheek. Marina laughs harder, hard enough that she snorts. It's not an attractive sound, and Marina should feel embarrassed but she just... She doesn't. 

Suddenly something cold and wet is crashing into her chest and Marina laughs. 

"Ned!" She laughs. 

Her husband smiles. 

The six-and-ten year old laughs as she scoops up more snow. Ned moves to do the same, but Marina is quicker and she throws her snow at his head before ducking behind the mounds of snow that make up her people. Ned, in a very uncharacteristic gesture, follows her. 

Chases her around the snow people and through snow drifts. 

He manages to catch her. Obviously, Ned's better at moving through the snow then Marina is due to the fact that he's lived in the North for years. 

Ned wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and dumps snow onto the top of her head. 

"Ned!" Marina laughs as she spins away from Ned. 

But he's still got an arm around her waist and Marina's no where near an expert at moving through snow. And when her boot meets a patch of ice and her body goes sliding to the left she ends up dragging Ned with her. 

Her husband lets out a low grunt as he tries to steady them both. It doesn't work. 

Marina lands on her back, hair spread out around her, cheeks red and flushed and wind bitten. 

Ned lands on top of her. His weight presses Marina deeper into the snow and his eyes are bright, Marina attributes that to the fact that he's actually smiling and it doesn't look forced or self deprecating by any means.

Laughter hangs between them. Whether it's Marina's or Ned's neither is sure, but it's soft laughter. But that laughter dies as something flickers in Ned's eyes. It almost looks like a deep sadness, like sorrow. As if he's reliving some distant memory. And it almost feels like an invasion of his privacy to be examining him like she is.

The six-and-ten year old glances away from Ned and towards the sky.

It's snowing.

* * *

Ned escorts her back to their chambers. 

They're both soaked and cold and wind bitten but Ned insists that they change clothes and take a moment to warm up. 

When they get there Marina's quick to pull her cloak off and throw it on the floor beside the fire. Ned takes a little more care with his. Marina rolls her eyes at him and kicks off her boots. 

"I still won." She states as she pulls off the pants she stole from Ned. 

"Of course." 

Marina pulls her doublet off, then her tunic, not stopping until she's in her smalls. 

"And to think that I, a Southern Lady, beat you, a Northern Lord. For shame." She laughs. 

Ned does not reply. 

So Marina twists around to look at him. 

He's staring at her, grey eyes drifting up the muscle of her calf to her bum over her stomach up to her breasts and stopping when his eyes meet her own. Ned swallows. Marina blushes. 

The concept of nudity has changed for Marina. 

Ned has seen her naked, Luwin has seen her mostly naked, Raleigh has seen her naked more often then either. Marina has given birth to a babe and will hopefully give birth to more... If her Lord husband is interested in taking her to bed... Which he is, if the sudden intensity of his eyes is anything to go by. 

But this is different. 

She hasn't been with Ned in more then a year. And as she has given him a son, an heir, Ned has no obligation to return to the marital bed. But it would appear that he does want to and that in itself is enough to make Marina blush. 

And blush she does. 

A light dusting of pink that colors her collarbones and neck and the top of her cheeks. 

Heat pools between her legs and Marins shifts, thighs pressing together in an attempt to get some sort of relief.

Because it's been months since Robb's birth and Marina _does_ want Ned. 

"Ned?" Her voice is far stronger then it should be. 

Her husband moves closer. Only stopping when his chest brushes Marina's whenever she inhales. And the way he's looking at her. _Gods_. Marina bites into her bottom lip a bit. The movement seems to draw Ned's eye. 

"May I bed you?" Ned asks, voice lower then usual. 

"If if please you." Marina manages to get out. 

She's not nervous. 

She's excited, so very, very excited. 

Suddenly Ned is kissing her. 

His hands land on Marina's waist and his mouth devours hers. Marina whimpers and moans against his mouth, fingers clawing at the doublet Ned has yet to remove. She pulls at Ned's belt and fumbles with the clasp. Ned's fingers clench at Marina's hips and she whimpers. 

And Ned lifts her up before settling her back down on the table in the solar. 

"You're wearing to many clothes." Marina mutters against his skin. 

Ned merely pulls his doublet over his head and kicks off his boots and Marina makes delighted little noises as his fingers drift up toward her breasts. 

Marina arches into his touch, begging and encouraging with little whines and breathy moans, all of which her husband seems to greatly appreciate. Because he smiles against her skin and trails kisses from her mouth to her throat to her collarbone where he nibbled and sucks at the skin. 

She isn't sure where the hell any of this is coming from but Marina certainly enjoys it. 

The six-and-ten year old laughs lightly as Ned lifts her into his arms, making his way toward the bed chambers. 

* * *

"My lady?" Raleigh asks later that evening as she helps Marina prepare the little ones for bed. 

"Yes?"

"Might I ask a personal question, My Lady?" 

Marina turns to face her friend. Because that's what they are. Friends. 

Raleigh appears to be nervous, anxious in a way Marina is unused to. 

"Yes, of course." Marina replies as she turns away from Jon's fussing. 

"I understand if I'm over stepping, I have no right to ask you this, but... Why did you have Lord Stark legitimize the bastard?" 

Marina licks her lip. 

Part of her is telling her that Raleigh doesn't deserve an answer, that she should just accept that Jon is part of the Stark family and let it go. But there is another part, louder and more insistent, that tells Marina her friend means no harm. So the auburn haired girl offers a thin smile before she begins speaking. 

"Did you know my sister Lysa was to give birth to a bastard?" 

"No, My Lady, I did not." 

Marina nods slowly. "Yes, she was very excited about it. Used to say that if it were a boy she would name it after our ancestor Elston Tully," Marina's smile grows sad at the memory of Lysa's excited babbling when she missed her second Moon's Blood. "We were children though and bastards are not accepted warmly." 

Honestly, Marina had loved the babe growing in her sister's womb. Perhaps she should have told Lysa to be rid of it, save herself the embarrassment, or tell their father that she had been taken against her will. It would have saved Lysa quite a bit of hurt... But Marina had been younger then, with thoughts of gallant knights and happy endings to unhappy stories. 

So she had not told Lysa to do any of those things. Marina had simply allowed Lysa to speak to her of the babe- but never the father, the less known the better for all- and had grown to love the happiness the babe had brought Lysa, who had taken to melancholy in the weeks after the disappearance of Petyr Baelish.

"She loved that babe," Marina finds herself confessing, "and I loved it for the happiness it brought her."

"May I ask what happened?" Raleigh's voice is soft, hesitant.

"When our father found out he demanded who the father was, demanded to know who knew of the babe. I expected Lysa to tell him that I had known, she didn't though. She just kept her mouth shut and said that she did what she did because she loved." Marina admits. "I should have gotten her and the babe out as soon as our father left. Instead I did nothing and Lysa was forced to give up the babe." 

"What could you have done My Lady?" There is sympathy in Raleigh's voice.

"My father had entertained the idea of a betrothal between myself and Mors Manwoody. Before my father decided to call off the betrothal I had begun a correspondence of sorts with the man. I like to believe he is something of a friend to me." 

Getting Lysa to Dorne would have been preferable. She would have been taken in by someone, possibly married to a lord, her babe would have been loved and educated. And though he or she would never inherit any land or titles, well, that fate would have been the most preferable. But Marina hadn't done anything, she had not sent Lysa off toward Dorne with a letter to Mors racing ahead of her. 

Marina had not been able to safe her sister's happiness. Marina had failed in her duty as a sister and aunt. She had allowed their father to crush Lysa's gentle soul... No, Lysa had not blamed Marina for what had happened, but she blamed their father. And Marina knows for a fact that their father's insistence to marry Lysa off to Jon Arryn had done nothing to soothe the hurt. 

"I had Jon legitimized because had he been left a bastard his life would be hard and cruel. He does not deserve that." 

And no child deserves such cruelty. 

"Some think you mad." Raleigh states. 

"Let them. I couldn't care less about what they think." 

Raleigh offers a think smile as she pulls Jon into her arms. 


	8. Chapter 8

The letter she receives from Catelyn is more cheerful then the letters Marina has received in the past, for which Marina is grateful. Catelyn's letter is a simple one. The eldest of the Tully girls writes about how their father has been on the mend for months now, how Hoster Tully is looking into a suitable betrothal for Catelyn. Marina smiles at this. Because it means their father has offered Catelyn the time she needed to mourn Brandon Stark. 

Catelyn congratulates Marina on the birth of her son, she doesn't mention Jon though and Marina is far from surprised. 

They've already had that argument. Catelyn not understanding Marina's decision on legitimizing the babe. So Marina thinks it's a good thing that Catelyn has seemingly decided to ignore it rather than argue about it further. 

"My Lady?" 

Marina looks up from the letter in her hand, smiling kindly when she sees Benjen walking toward her. 

He'll be leaving for the Wall soon, to take the Black and protect those South of the Wall. Marina respects him for doing it, even if she'll miss him terribly. 

"You don't have to call me that Benjen, we're family after all." 

"Yes, but you are still a proper Lady. Besides, I think my brother might become rather jealous of my familiarity with his wife." Benjen laughs.

"You, Sir, are incorrigible."

Benjen simply shrugs one shoulder. Neither denying nor agreeing with Marina's testament. 

Marina takes a moment to stow her sisters letter away before turning her full attention on the youngest Stark brother. He looks tired, older in a way, his eyes are grim and his face is sad. Marina wonders if he's getting proper rest at night, Gods know Ned isn't. 

"When are you leaving?" Marina asks, wanting to fill the silence. 

"Day after next. Need to head out before the blizzards hit." Benjen remarks. 

"I see... Benjen, may I ask you a question?" Marina inquires. 

"Of course." 

She wants to ask why he's going to the wall. Why he'd want to leave Winterfell like that. But she already knows the answer to those questions. Asking them aloud would almost be an insult to the man at this point. So instead Marina offers a bright smile and loops her arm through Benjen's. 

"You'll promise to right, won't you?" 

Benjen laughs. "Every day." 

"That is more then acceptable." Marina replies. 

And the man beside her smiles before leading her away from the rookery. 

* * *

There is something to be said about the ability of Northern lords to thrive in such harsh weather. 

A blizzard hits later that evening. 

It's a frightful thing, far worse then Marina's ever witnessed in her time at Winterfell. The winds beat at the windows, snow piles up in front of entry ways, and if one were to look out their window they would find nothing but a harsh sheet of ice and snow. 

Marina's mildly concerned. 

Ned and Benjen are less so. 

"It will pass." Benjen comments over dinner, sounding mildly put out. 

Marina bites into her bottom lip, gently gnawing at it as she wonders about the people of Winterfell. Are they alright? Are their houses warm and secure? Are their homes build over hot springs just as the castle was? 

A hand on her elbow has Marina looking to her left where her husband sits. 

"I assure you, My Lady, the storm will pass." He promises. 

"Besides, this is nothing. When I was a small child I remember it snowing like this for almost a week. The drifts grew so large that I think I could have jumped from the Rookery and landed safely." 

This admission does not make Marina feel any better about the situation. 

If anything it causes her to feel more worry. 

"Benjen," Ned reprimands softly, "Enough." 

"No, it's alright." Marina assures, but her gut is twisting unpleasantly at the possibility of this weather lasting more then a day or two. 

"You're taking this well." Benjen promises. "Many Southern women would not take to this as gracefully as you have." 

Marina levels her good brother with something of a glare. Wanting desperately to tell him to shove off. But his eyes are bright and he's smiling. Marina can't bring herself to say something that borders scathing. So she rolls her eyes instead. 

Dinner ends and Benjen disappears to do whatever it is he does at night, leaving the others to sit in the almost uncomfortable heat of the great hall. 

* * *

The snow persists for three more days. 

And when it ends there is a heavy blanket of white covering the land as far as the eye can see. 

Marina finds it oddly beautiful. In a terrifying sort of way. Though, she thinks that terror stems from the fact that Benjen is leaving for the wall. 

"Is this a good idea Benjen?" Marina asks as she follows the dark haired man toward the stables. 

Ned is with them, stony and silent. He says nothing. 

"Of course. I'm more then capable of making it to the wall before the next snow, besides, there are many small villages between here and there that I can take refuge in should the weather grow dangerous." Benjen promises. 

And the determination in his eyes, in the way he says it, has Marina wanting to rip her hair out at the roots. Because the snow is almost knee deep, and had paths not been cleared, Marina knows there would be no way to get from one place to the other. And that is in Winterfell alone! She can't be sure anyone has attempted a path out beyond the walls of the Northern city. 

"Do you at least have supplies should you not make it to a village?" Marina demands. 

"Maester Luwin has seen to it that I have everything for such an event." 

 _Of course he did_ , Marina thinks to herself. 

She'll have to thank him. 

The six-and-ten year old shivers a bit and pulls her cloak tighter about her shoulders. And Gods above, she's thankful that the fabric has been lined with fur to help keep the warmth trapped beneath her cloak. 

"Send a raven as soon as you reach the wall." Ned demands once they've reached the stables. 

"I will." Benjen promises absently, to which Ned places his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. 

"I'm quite serious Benjen. The roads are treacherous and you are taking a gamble." Ned remarks. 

"Dear brother, I promise that I will send you a raven. It should take me but four weeks to reach Castle Black." Benjen states. 

"Five actually," Marina corrects before motioning to the snow, "If you are taking the King's Road. Several more if you are not." 

Benjen's smile is delighted as he throws an arm around Marina's shoulders with a cry of, "I didn't know you cared for my well being in such a way!" 

Marina rolls her eyes and pushes the man off with a good-natured laugh. 

"Only because I must, good brother." Marina jokes. 

And then Benjen is pulling her into a gentle embrace and placing the chastest of kisses to her temple. 

"Watch out for my brother, yes? Don't let him do anything fool hardy. And send me letters, I want to hear all about the little ones." Benjen demands. 

"Of course, Ben." Marina promises. 

The dark haired man nods briskly before turning to embrace Ned. 

Their embrace is far more fierce. It's a bone crushing, soul lifting thing. And when Ned pulls away his eyes are a soft silver, seemingly too old for his face. 

When Benjen mounts his dustrier- a pretty, dappled thing- Marina steps closer to Ned, looping her arm through his and sharing in his heat. The amusement on his face tells Marina that her husband is fully aware of why she's holding him so close. Marina doesn't mind. She just presses herself closer to him. 

"I expect there to be another child to meet when I return." Benjen cackles. 

"If you continue like that," Marina threatens, blushing, "there'll be no children for you to meet." 

"Ah, good sister, you know just how to wound me!" Benjen laughs. 

And then he gives his final farewells to Marina and Ned and Maester Luwin who stands off to the side. As soon as they are said, as soon as Ned says his goodbyes, Benjen is urging his horse to a walk. 

Marina watches him go, refusing to leave until Benjen has cleared the gates. 

She hopes he makes it to Castle Black. She really, really does. 


	9. Chapter 9

Ned is not a peaceful sleeper. 

Marina doesn't exactly expect him to be... Not with all he's seen. If Ned slept peacefully through the night then Marina would be legitimately wary of her Lord husband. But in the weeks since his return Ned has never dreamt so violently.

It starts late into the night.

The boys have been fussy. The wet nurse who typically tends to them at night being unable to soothe either of them. Robb is the loudest of the two, screaming and wailing in such a way that Marina almost finds herself marveling at the power of his little lungs. Jon is quieter in the sense that his screams don't beat off of the walls and echo in the halls. 

So Marina sits with them, helping the wet nurse soothe the boys. 

And while Alys feeds Robb, who suckles greedily at her breast, Marina tends to Jon. 

She holds him close and lets him cry into her dress, lets him tug angrily at her braid, lets him cry until there are no tears left to cry and his eyes grow too heavy for him to keep open. 

Once he's asleep Marina places him back in his crib. 

Alys passes over Robb, allowing Marina to wish her son sweet dreams and put him to bed, then she bids her good night and goes to sit in the chair placed near the fire. 

Marina smiles at the older woman before leaving the nursery. 

 

* * *

 

Whatever Marina expects to find when she returns to the room Ned insists they share it's... It's not this. 

For a moment Marina thinks someone might have crept into their chambers with the intention of slitting Ned's throat. It would not be surprising. Ned's made a great many enemies thanks to this war. If someone were to attempt an attack on Ned... Gods above. 

Without thought Marina races through the solar, throwing open the door leading to their sleeping chambers, and gasping at the sight that greets her. 

The room is not a wreck. There are no broken glasses, no shattered windows, nothing is out of place but Marina still finds herself terrified by what she sees. 

Because it's Ned. 

He's sitting in their bed, fingers clenching the furs covering their bed, eyes fixated on the wall but they're hollow and unseeing, and he's sweating profusely. His chest rises and falls almost too rapidly to be healthy and Marina finds her heart leaping up into her throat. 

"Ned?" She breathes, stepping closer to her husband. 

But he doesn't even acknowledge her presence. 

Just stares at the wall and shakes. 

Marina turns and takes off running, dress pulled up to her knees to allow her freer movement. 

She has to find Luwin. He'll know what to do, surely. He's a Maester after all. And he's more than likely seen this type of thing before. 

And so she runs, pushing herself faster and faster, until she reaches Luwin's door. 

"Maester Luwin!" Marina calls as she pounds her fist against the door. "Maester Luwin, please!" 

A few more pounds at the door has the heavy wood swinging open to reveal a confused Maester Luwin. 

"My Lady, are you-" 

"Please, it's Ned." Marina gasps, reaching out to take Luwin's hand. 

She thinks better of it though and opts for running it over her braid. 

Luwin stills, his lips pulling down in a frown. He disappears back into his room for a moment before returning wearing his robes and carrying a small box. The moment his door is shut Marina turns on her heel and races off in the direction she came. 

 

* * *

 

"It is best for you to wait here." Luwin says before slipping into the bed chambers. 

Marina nods, lowers herself into a chair, decides she doesn't want to sit, and finds herself pacing. 

Back and forth across the solar, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Is Ned alright? What if he's hurt? Or sick? Or... Oh Gods, what if he's dying. 

No... No... Ned's going to be fine. Luwin will take care of him and everything will be fine. 

"He'll be fine." 

Marina frowns and continues to pace. 

And after what feels like an eternity Luwin finally steps through the door. Marina's at his side before he can even get the door shut. 

"Is he alright?" 

Luwin sighs, eyes sad, and shakes his head. 

"My Lady, sometimes when... Sometimes when a man leaves a war the war does not leave him. It follows and it does not leave. Not entirely." Luwin explains. 

Marina licks her lips. 

"May I see him?" Marina demands. 

"Yes... Be careful though. He is still not quite himself..." Luwin says after a long moment. 

"Thank you, Maester." Marina breathes before she slips past him and makes her way into the bed chamber she shares with Ned. 

 

* * *

 

When she was young Marina used to dream of drowning. Used to dream that one of her siblings would push her into a river and laugh as the currents pulled her under. But she'd outgrown those dreams. 

Ned... Ned won't. 

Whatever horrors followed him from the battlefield will hound him for the rest of his life. And what can Marina do to help? She's no Maester, no magic wielder, she cannot go back in time and change what has happened. 

She is useless in this situation. 

"Ned?" She whispers, careful to move slowly and speak in soothing tones. 

Her husband looks up, pulling his face from the cradle of his hands. His eyes are bloodshot and there are dark smears of purple beneath his eyes. But he's... He's himself again. Marina recognizes this Ned. 

"Marina..." 

Before Marina can stop herself, or tell herself that she needs to give him space, Marina is across the room and pulling Ned into a tight embrace. 

"Are you alright?" She demands, pressing her face into Ned's neck. 

He nods hesitantly, reaching out to smooth his hand down Marina's back. 

"I'm... I'm alright." 

 _Liar_ , she wants to say, _you're a gods damned liar!_  

But she keeps her mouth shut. Finding more comfort in Ned's embrace than in the idea of calling him out on his lies. If it makes him feel better, if it reassures him, then what's the harm? Luwin is aware of these night terrors now as is Marina. They'll keep a better eye on Ned from now on. But for now Marina wants to chase her own reassurances. 


End file.
